


lucifer's chorale

by xnowimnothing



Category: HIM (Band), Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Depression, M/M, Masturbation, Recreational Drug Use, Soul Selling, Spit As Lube, Supernatural Elements, Unhealthy Relationships, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25569073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xnowimnothing/pseuds/xnowimnothing
Summary: Ville wants to become a rockstar, and he will do just about anything to make his dream come true.
Relationships: Ricky "Horror" Olson/Ville Valo
Comments: 33
Kudos: 13





	1. greatest love songs, vol. 666 - i

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I don't know   
> 2\. don't @ me   
> 3\. I can't write   
> 4\. I can't speak English 
> 
> also:   
> \- Motionless in White doesn't exist in this universe   
> \- Ricky is more or less the same age as Ville here

1996

Finally it was all set. After consulting weathered books and documents so frail they would pulverize if not handled with care for weeks, after countless sleepless nights made bearable only by liters and liters of black coffee, it was finally time. Everything was about to get real. 

It was mostly dark in the room, white moon beams shone through the window. On the floor, the Sigil of Lucifer was traced, and candles were placed all around it as instructed in one of the many demonology texts Ville had studied. He'd also laid some stones on the drawing, following the instructions. He only had to pronounce some words in Latin and soon he'd get all he wanted. At least he hoped so. 

A music career and a rockstar life in exchange for his soul. A fair trade. This is what Ville had in mind; this the deal he'd sign with the devil. 

None of his perplexities had to do with the dangers or potential harm of the deal; he wasn't scared of the devil, even more so when the greatest dream of his life was at stake. He would do anything to live it, and if he had to give up his soul to reach it, then so be it. It's not like he cherished it that much, anyway. 

His only doubts concerned the real effectiveness of the curse - first of all, he wondered if such a curse would really exist. Ville was skeptic, very. Lucifer himself could be nothing more than fantasy, just like God. He would only try once; if it didn't work out, he'd just keep living his life like he always had. 

Ville thought there was just one way to dispel his doubts now, which was saying those words in Latin. The ancient book was in his hands, open exactly where the words were written. He only had to read them out loud. Only that, and he would have his answers. 

A deep breath barely calmed his fast beating heart. His voice broke only once, at the first word. 

Nothing happened. All the candles remained lit, the air still; the Sigil was still nothing but a white drawing on the floor, the stones nothing but rocks. 

Disappointed and cinically disillusioned, Ville cursed under his breath and dropped the book onto the floor. He blew the candles, got into bed and tucked himself under the covers. It was too late to be sorry now. 

The house phone woke him up the next day, but he couldn't answer fast enough so it stopped ringing. He shrugged: if it was important, they'd call back. When he came back to his room, he noticed the Sigil traced on the floor and a feeling of frustration wrapped around the pit of his stomach. 

_I'm talented,_ he said to himself. _I can make it on my own._

He grabbed a mop and started cleaning out the symbol, anxious to forget about it as soon as possibile. He wanted to forget about the wasted sleepless nights, about how naive, childish, stupid he had been. What the hell was he thinking? 

When he was done, he put the mop back in the bucket, and just in that moment, the phone started ringing again. 

“Hello?” Ville said against the receiver, the annoyance from the night before still echoing in his voice. 

“Hello, is this Ville Hermanni Valo?” 

Ville furrowed his brow. 

“Yes, it's me.” 

“I'm calling you on behalf of BMG. We listened to your demos and decided to sign your band; therefore, we ask you to show up to our offices on Tuesday afternoon so we can discuss the contract.” 

Ville was speechless. His heart was beating loudly and his hands were trembling. It was maybe the tenth record company they'd sent their demos to, but only the first one to reach out to them. It couldn't be. He couldn't believe it… finally someone who put trust in the band. Was it a dream? A joke? If yes, well, it was almost a funny one. 

“Mr. Valo?” 

It wasn't a joke. 

“Yeah, sorry. I'm just very excited,” any hint of bitterness had dissolved. “Thank you for the opportunity. I'm telling the others and we'll come on Tuesday.” 

“You're very welcome. Have a nice day.” 

When Ville hang up, his kness almost gave in and he had to sit down on the floor. _Holy shit_. He covered his mouth with a sweaty hand, the energy flowing through every fiber of his body as if he was intoxicated. He wanted to laugh. He really just wanted to laugh, maybe jump around a bit. 

He tried to stand up instead, even if all of him was still shaking. He had to call the others. 

“Pick up the phone, dickhead,” he muttered as he heard the phone ring on the other line. He felt he could almost melt the receiver in his boiling hand. 

“Hello?” 

“Migè! BMG called me! They want to sign us!” 

Migè laughed. Ville frowned. 

“Yeah and, y'know, Chris Isaak called me to tell me our version of _Wicked Game_ is better than his.” 

“I'm not kidding! Migè, they want to see us on Tuesday to sign the contract!” 

“Ville, c'mon.” 

“For fuck's sake man, do I sound like I'm fucking around?” Ville was exasperated. It seemed to him that his voice was louder than necessary, but he just couldn't control it. 

“You do seem a little euphoric…” Migè kept quiet for a moment. “You're telling me that…?” 

“I am, fuck, yes! Call the others. Our dream is getting closer and closer.”


	2. greatest love songs, vol. 666 - ii

Ville spent the rest of the day trying to work off his happiness - it was irrepressible. It was like he didn't know what to do with it; it gave him energies he didn't know how to spend. 

He was going to become a star. His life would soon be filled with records, awards, interviews, photoshoots. Soon tours, live performances, magazines and adoring fans would come his way. Everything Ville had ever dreamed of; music - all he lived for. His father would soon need to find another assistant for his shop; Ville was meant to much greater things. He knew it, he always had. He wouldn't have settled for any B plan. It just wasn't in his nature to compromise. 

When the sun set, he decided to prepare a relaxing bath for himself. He guessed he would've to get used to luxury soon, so what was wrong with a little self care? 

Warm water slowly filled the tub with a light sound, and it turned a red hue as Ville poured minerals and oils in it. Upon taking off the robe he was wearing over his naked body, Ville got a glimpse of his own reflection in the mirror. 

Something caught his attention. He walked over to the mirror and observed himself more closely. 

He brushed his fingertips along his cheek. It was him, it's not like he was unrecognizable; yet, something in his figure felt unknown. Maybe he just never got to see himself in similar lighting, or maybe he simply never paid attention to it before, but his eyes looked different. Still green, the outer corners still upturned, but… were they more brilliant? He looked at them as if it was the first time. And not only did his eyes seem alien, but so did his lips: they were plump, red. The shape of his face, framed by well-defined brown curls, was more… regular? Attractive? His body, though very thin, appeared more toned and his pale skin seemed to be flawless. 

Ville couldn't tell exactly what was off, he couldn't have explained it with words; one thing was for certain, though, and it was that he found himself to be quite beautiful. 

He unlit the mirror lights, thinking that maybe his elated mood was affecting his self image. He'd read something about the link between mood and self esteem once, and it was likely just that now. 

Before turning around and going back to the now filled up tub, Ville glanced over to his own reflection briefly, for one last time. His own gaze almost gave him chills: it was languid and dark, extremely sensual. He didn't know he could pull that off. 

Again, he thought it to be a consequence of his mood. It can affect libido too, right? 

He tried to brush these thoughts off his mind. He got inside the tub and relaxed his muscles, sighing. The water was pleasant against his body and Ville felt light and at peace. He delicately ran a hand down his chest, and his skin, softened by the water, was boiling hot under his touch. He moved it slowly, and in its journey it met his abdomen and lower belly. The heat in his gut grew more intense the lower his hand went, until it grabbed his hard cock in a fist. He closed his eyes and sent his head back at the contact, leaning into his touch slow and tender, but passionate enough to send fits of pleasure to his brain. 

He thought of hordes of women looking at him with desire, of magazines portraying him as a sex symbol, of groupies sneaking backstage ready to be seduced. The thought of being so coveted only turned him on more, increasing the movement of his wrist, until the pleasure became too much. He came with a broken moan, squirting his cum onto his stomach and into the water. 

He stayed breathless for a moment, his mind dizzy for the absolute pleasure, limbs relaxed and heavy in the tub. 


	3. greatest love songs, vol. 666 - iii

They had just walked out of the BMG offices after signing the contract. Ville felt like he could touch the sky with his hand: he screamed with joy as his heart was beating fast and he felt like hugging everybody, in a maybe non-very-Finnish fashion. Usually, he would have hidden his enthusiasm better: but all of this, all of this was too important for him. It was the turning point he was waiting for, and the emotions he felt were too strong to be contained. 

“We gotta celebrate! Let's go drink. Ville, you do look like you're ready to party. The smoke between your lips only adds to your look,” Migè said, laughed. 

“For real though, why did you dress to the nines like this?” Linde asked. 

“We're gonna be rockstars,” Ville said, lighting up his cigarette. His low-waist pants were tight; he was shirtless, only a black fur coat covered his shoulders. His lips were painted pink and black eyeshadow decorated his eyes. “We must play the role.” 

“If you say so,” Linde arched his eyebrows. “So, where are we drinking?” 

“Not to be a killjoy,” Ville said, exhaling the smoke. “I'm electrified and all, but I think we should go rehearsing now. They already booked a performance for us on Friday. It's at Tavastia: we can't be mediocre.” 

It was silent for a moment. 

“I hate to say this, but you're right,” Migè said. 

“C'mon, let's warm up with _It's All Tears_!” Ville said, his voice reverberating throughout the rehearsal room. The others plugged in the amplifiers and grabbed their instruments; then they started playing. 

As he was singing, Ville felt something was up with his voice. Specifically, it seemed to him that he wasn't straining it at all, as if he didn't even have to set up his register. The chorus demanded he moved rather fast between high and low notes, and for the first time he felt he could make the high notes higher and the low ones way lower. So he tried. 

“ _I'm waiting for you to drown in this love_ ,” woah, so, he got to an E2, he thought. He never reached such a low note before. 

“ _So open your arms_ ,” this one was quite similar to the original, but he could make it higher. He knew he could. He didn't modify it further because he didn't think it would fit the song, but he kept it in mind. Maybe it could work for another track. 

When the song ended, Migè looked at Ville for a moment. 

“I didn't know you could sing this low. We should record it like this, if you can. It's cool.” 

“Yeah,” Ville said, pensive. “E2. I think I can sing even lower.” 

“Can you?” 

He sang some. He got to a G#1, and from there, he sang back up. The highest note he could hit was a F#6. 

“Seems like your vocal range is about five octaves, five notes and a semitone, more or less,” Linde stated, tuner in his hand. 

“Unbelievable,” Migè said. “We've known each other for a lifetime, we've played together for years. How could you hide this voice from us for all this time?” 

“I didn't know I could sing like this, either,” Ville said, serious. What was happening?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do i know anything about music theory? barely  
> did i really research ville's vocal abilities to write this? of course  
> am i cringe? excessively 
> 
> hold on ricky's about to make his entrance


	4. greatest love songs, vol. 666 - iv

The show at the Tavastia was great; sure, there weren't many people attending, but that would come later. Ville had to give time to time. 

The chemistry between the guys onstage was strong and electrifying, it was like the band wasn't composed of five different people, it was as if they all meshed together to form one single soul. The audience was reactive and loud, they seemed to adore every one of Ville's moves; everyone seemed to be eating out of his hand. As far as he was concerned, his performance was excellent. He hit all the notes, high and low, never an imperfection. It couldn't go any better. He was hyped. 

This time, when Migè suggested they go drink to celebrate, no one objected. They picked a small pub near the Tavastia and toasted their first small success. 

“Hey,” someone said suddenly. Ville turned in the voice's direction. He was still sober enough to recognize a boy with long black hair and big blues eyes addressing him. “I was at the Tavastia earlier… I saw you play… just wanted to tell you you were amazing.” 

“Our first fan!” Migè exclaimed. “Come here, sit with us.” 

Ville smiled: the boy was visibly nervous, shy. Did he really have this effect on people now? He could learn to like it. 

“Yeah, come here,” he told him. He took a chair from the empty table next to theirs and placed it beside himself. The boy sit down and Ville pulled two cigarettes out of his pocket. He put one in his mouth and lighted it, gave the other to the boy. “What's your name?” 

The boy lighted his own smoke up with the lighter Ville was holding, then answered. 

“Ricky.” 

“Nice to meet you, Ricky,” Ville said. “We're HIM, or, if you'd rather, His Infernal Majesty. Hey,” he said, stopping the waiter walking past them in that moment, “may we have a red ale, please?” then he focused his attention to Ricky again. “My name is Ville. They're Migè, Linde, Patka and Antto.” 

“You have… an incredible charisma,” Ricky said to him, voice small, right when a beer landed on the table in front of him. “And a gorgeous voice. Hope this doesn't come off as too creepy - but all this and your beauty made me think you might be not entirely human.” 

Ville shivered for a second, but tried not to let his cool, easy-going facade fall off. 

“And yet I'm right here in front of you,” he laughed. “Jokes aside - thank you, I'm flattered.” 

A beer led to another and a cigarette led to another. After very few pleasantries, Ville found himself taking Ricky home. 

He closed the door shut behind them and immediately pushed Ricky against the wall, kissing him forcefully. The boy tensed up at first, but then relaxed in his arms. Ricky parted his lips and let Ville's tongue touch his own. Ricky was sweet and inviting and the taste of alcohol intoxicated Ville; he couldn't take his hands off him. When he touched him through his jeans, Ricky groaned against his lips and an electric fit ran through his whole body. Ricky held his hand out to Ville's belt, anxious to open it, but his hands were trembling so Ville came to the rescue; he undid the buckle and the jeans, lowering them. Ricky looked at him and bit his lip, then dropped to his knees right in front of him. 

A broken sigh escaped Ville's lips as Ricky looked up at him with those big blue eyes of his, dangerously close to the part that coveted him the most. 

Ricky didn't make him wait. He pushed his boxers down to the ankles, never looking away. 

“You're gorgeous,” he told him while slowly messaging him, and Ville's breath got caught in his throat. 

“So are you,” he sighed. “You're mine, tonight.” 

“All yours.” 

Just the time to say these two words and Ricky put his mouth to better use. Ville couldn't hold in a small moan when Ricky ran his tongue along his length, from the base to the tip. When he got there, he opened his mouth to take him in, deeper and deeper. Ville grabbed his hair in a fist to move it out of his face and tried his best not to push him closer to himself. His mouth was warm and tight, his tongue wet and soft. 

Those blue eyes kept looking up at him, and if Ville wasn't focused on _something else_ , he was sure he would've got lost in them. No embarrassment, no hesitation; those deep, languid eyes told him he would do anything just for him, to satisfy him, that he wanted him just as much as he did. 

Ville let go of his hair. 

“Get up,” he said, breathless. Ricky obeyed. When he was on his feet, Ville captured his lips in another intense kiss in which he could taste himself. “Bedroom.” 

He backed away and took Ricky's hand in his own, leading him to his room; he finished undressing and took Ricky's clothes off, then he pushed him onto the bed and crawled on top of him. He kissed him again. 

“Am I your first groupie?” Ricky asked, laughed. 

“Yeah,” Ville said, his hungry lips now on the other's neck. “I'm losing another kind of virginity with you tonight.” 

Ricky's delicate laughter turned into a groan as his cock brushed Ville's inadvertently, friction barely perceptible. Ville couldn't resist him. 

He reached out to the drawer of the nightstand: he grabbed the lube and looked at the boy. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, serious for a moment, showing Ricky the bottle. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure,” Ricky said, panting by now… lost by now. 

Ville spread lube all over himself and got in between Ricky's legs; it was hard to stay in control and think rationally now, and it didn't help that Ricky's barely open lips were red and swollen from all the kisses, that his eyelids were heavy and his black hair was all unkempt on the pillow. It was a carnal picture; he looked like sex personified. 

“Ready?” he managed, now too close to his entrance. 

“Yes, Ville, please. Please.” 

Ville really didn't need anything else. Just hearing his name like that, breathless, followed by some begging… God, he could come by this alone. He entered slowly and closed his eyes at the too many sensations, too intense and at once. The pleasure fogged his mind for good; he kept making his way inside Ricky slowly, up to the hilt. He waited some seconds for him to adjust, then started moving. He was delicate and gentle at first, willing to enjoy every moment and every touch of that beautiful fusion: not only the pleasure in their most erogenous parts, but also Ricky's nails scratching his back, his heavy and irregular breath tingling his neck, the sweet and desperate sounds they were both emitting. It was beautiful. Ville couldn't remember the last time someone made him feel like this. 

But then it all became unbearable and Ville was forced to increase the rhythm of his hips, pursuing his own release. His breath grew faster, the tension in his lower stomach grew more insistent and urgent. Ricky groaned loudly, and that's when Ville came, inside of him and with a weak moan. Not pulling out and in an intoxicated state, he grabbed Ricky's cock and started pumping skillfully. It wasn't long until Ricky came as well, his sinful, broken voice like music to Ville's ears. Ville's hand got dirty, but it was the last thing on his mind. 

They remained quiet to catch their breaths for a while, embraced and exhausted, Ville's head on Ricky's shoulder and his hands on his hips. Then Ville rolled over to the side and opened his arms to let Ricky cuddle against his chest. He stroked his hair absentmindedly. 

“Can I sleep here?” Ricky broke the silence. 

“Uh? Oh, yeah, sure,” was the last thing Ville said before drifting off. 

When he woke up, he found Ricky standing in front of the desk, wearing only his underwear; he couldn't see what he was doing. Ricky noticed and turned towards him. 

“Hey,” he said softly. “Slept well?” 

He sat down on the bed where Ville was lying and tenderly stroked his cheek with his knuckles. When the fingers got closer to his lips, Ville gave them a chaste kiss. 

“Yeah. What about you?” 

“Yeah,” Ricky said. “You have many demonology books. I had a feeling you were interested in the occult.” 

Ville's chest tightened a bit, but he chose to ignore it. 

“Well, our band logo is a pentagram in the shape of a heart. It wouldn't be hard to figure out.” 

“I'm interested in it too. I had a phase where I was obsessed with this stuff.” 

“Really?” 

Ville was surprised. Honestly, he'd like to ask him some questions. If he knew more than he did, he could have got some useful information. 

Because it was clear that something didn't add up. Maybe it was too early to tell, but things had been going rather smoothly - too smoothly. Not to mention how his looks and voice suddenly got better. Could it be only luck? 

“I used to read a lot about soul selling - y'know, things like Goethe's _Faust_ and all that stuff. Sure it's all bullshit, but it was very interesting to me.” 

Ville nodded. “Yeah, it's all bullshit.” 

Ricky remained silent for a second. 

“Listen,” he said then, voice trembling. “I'll give you my number. You'll probably forget about me when you're a rockstar… but it's worth a shot, isn't it?” 

He gave him a note with his number on it. It was a little creased, maybe he'd been holding it for a while. 

“What makes you so sure I'll be a rockstar?” 

“Ville, please. You have all it takes: your songs are good, you have stage presence, your voice is crazy, you're gorgeous. It's clear as day you're gonna be someone.”


	5. razorblade romance

2000

Ville looked out from the balcony of his hotel room in Berlin. The music was loud, yet it didn't drown out the chit-chat and laughter of the people enjoying the garden and the pool below him. His tattooed body was wrapped in a scarlet silk robe and in his hand a glass of red wine was almost empty. 

He looked over at the party in his band's honor with detachment. _Razorblade Romance_ had gone golden in Europe, which was amazing, sure, but it was still _only_ golden. Ville wouldn't be satisfied until it went x3 platinum, at the very least. Also, they still hadn't reached the US: no one knew them there, though they'd already released two records. It seemed to him that the record company was taking things way too slow. They should've toured there at the very least; maybe they could work with an American producer, play some festivals. Were people really this incompetent? 

Two knocks on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. Ville thought about ignoring them: probably someone had come looking for him. He didn't really want to be found at the moment. 

Parties weren't exactly his cup of tea; moreover, he didn't really know anyone of those fancy dressed people down there. 

Another two knocks, and he gave in. He sighed and rested the glass on a coffee table. 

His eyes widened when he opened the door, his mood changing completely. 

“Ricky!” he exclaimed, hugged him tight. “What are you doing here! I'm so happy to see you.” 

Ricky kissed him and Ville stepped back, dragging the boy with him inside the room. He closed the door with a foot, hands on Ricky's waist. 

“I've missed so much. So much,” he told him, lips on the soft skin of his neck. 

“I knew I'd find you in your room,” Ricky said, putting one hand in his hair. 

Ville smiled. 

“You know me by now.” 

Ville pushed him until Ricky's legs met the bed; he made him lie down, then crawled on top of him. 

“You came all the way from Helsinki just for me?” 

“Of course, my love. It was a little surprise for you. Actually, I have a flight to Seattle tomorrow, I'm gonna stay with my parents for a bit.” 

“We have little time, then,” Ville said, stroking his face. Then sighed, “We barely see each other.” 

“It's your job. I understand, I really do. It's inevitable,” Ricky offered him a sweet smile, then connected their lips again. The kiss grew passionate, with his tongue warm and soft against Ville's, every touch making his hairs stand on end. 

“I love you so much,” Ricky said. Ville lowered his gaze but still smiled. 

“C'mere,” Ville whispered and kissed him again, undoing the waistband of his robe. 

“Going commando, huh?” 

Ville hummed. He nibbled his neck, giving kisses and small bites, and Ricky groaned as he took his robe off; the smooth fabric sliding down Ville's skin almost tickled him. 

“God, you get more beautiful every time I see you,” Ricky panted. The compliment turned Ville on more, and he automatically started rutting against Ricky, who was still clothed. The latter closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Do you want me? Am I the only man you desire?” Ville skillfully undid Ricky's belt and shoved a hand inside his pants, grabbing him; Ricky had to cover his mouth with a hand to keep from screaming with pleasure. Ville loved every second of it. It made him feel invincible. 

“Yes, yes, Ville. There's no one like you. I'll never want anyone as much as I want you. Please…” 

“Sweetheart, you make it so easy.” 

With a deliberate movement, Ville lowered his jeans and sank down on him. He could tell the exact moment Ricky's breath got caught in his windpipe: he knew he was driving him crazy simply by breathing on his hard cock. He knew he had him in his hand. 

He lifted his gaze to look him in the eyes and wetted his parted lips. 

“God, Ville, you're too much… I can't be without you,” Ricky's voice was a moan. “Please…” 

Ville didn't need further begging. He immediately took the tip in his mouth and sucked until his cheeks were hollow; Ricky was groaning loudly already, body trembling underneath his. It was so easy with him. 

Ville took him deeper, relaxing his throat. Ricky's fingers were entwined in his curls, holding his head tightly as Ville moved around him. It didn't take long for Ricky to come: Ville collected all his cum into his mouth and swallowed. Then, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and smiled amused when he saw Ricky with an arm over his eyes. Effortlessly reduced to nothing. 

“I don't like the people down there,” Ville said, pointing to the glass door to the balcony. “Can we stay here all night?” 

Ricky nodded, breathless. 


	6. deep shadows and brilliant highlights

2001 

Ville was drinking from a bottle of champagne as he watched the rain through the tinted glass of the limousine. He could hear the rest of the band talk and joke with one another, but he wasn't actually listening to them. He felt closer to the dull gray sky than to their laughter. 

Everyone was used to his behaviors by now, so no one bothered him anymore. Trying to involve him or to make him laugh would be of no use, and no one even tried anymore. 'Brooding bastard', someone once called him. It was on point. 

The driver pulled over. They got to the Rock Am Ring, where the band would headline in a few hours. Ville was the last to step out of the vehicle: the screams of the fans were a racket and the blinding flashes forced him to close his eyes. Someone he didn't even know rushed to shelter him from the rain with an umbrella, two bodyguards walked by his side. 

“Ville! Ville!” shouted someone in the crowd, a journalist maybe. “Your new single,  _ Pretending _ , reached number one in the charts!” 

“About time,” Ville said, annoyed, as he kept on walking. 

“Ville! You always sing about love, why is it so important to you? Are you in love?” another journalist asked. 

“Please, back away: this is not a press conference,” someone from the crew said. Ville was silently grateful. 

His mood got better during the show: it went fine despite the weather, all the energy and talent HIM was famous for were there. Fans went nuts and the band had fun. Thank God for music. 

In the dressing room, Ville took his black coat off, the writing “ _ your pretty face is going to hell _ ” clearly visible on the chair where he rested it. Right when he was opening a beer bottle, his phone started ringing. 

“Baby!” it was Ricky. “I watched the show on MTV. You were amazing, otherworldly as always.” 

“Thank you, sweetheart. What's up in Helsinki?” 

“Nothing much… it gets boring without you.” 

“The tour will be long, you know that,” Ville started sipping his beer. 

“I do… but I miss you.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

Silence. 

“You don't miss me?” 

Ville's heart broke. 

“Sweetheart, c'mon, you know I didn't mean it like that.” 

Ricky didn't answer for a moment, and Ville's hands started sweating. He hated these conversations. 

“I don't know, I always feel like I care about this relationship more than you do.” 

“It's not true,” Ville said, assertive. “I just have a lot to think about… a lot of stress, a lot of work.” 

“Okay…” 

“Good night, Ricky.” 

Ricky hung up. Ville sighed and threw himself onto the couch, still drinking his beer. 


	7. love metal

2003

When he opened his eyes, Ville couldn't recognize where he was. He was on a bed, that he knew, and it was definitely a positive thing, never to be taken for granted. Sometimes he'd find himself waking up in way less respectable places, like on the concrete of a dirty public restroom or on the asphalt of a dark alley in unknown towns. 

His head was spinning and he closed his eyes to ease the sickness. It seemed like he was in an hotel room; he just hoped it was his own. 

He tried to understand if there was somebody with him in the room. He reached his hand out on the bed, the only movement he could manage without throwing up, and found no one. Thank God. 

A chill ran down his spine, he trembled; he was sweating and his head felt like it was exploding. He was a step away from thinking it was the end: he was young, sure, but he'd lived his life, he'd left his impact on the world. He could accept to die from alcohol poisoning in a random hotel somewhere in the world. Nikki Sixx was found dead in a dumpster: he survived, sure, but it could still be worse, couldn't it? 

The pit of his stomach tightened in a knot, his reflexes were fast enough for him to run to the bathroom before puking his guts out. 

He kneeled in front of the toilet bowl, and he knew he'd stay there for a long time. Then someone would come to collect him, they'd take him to the venue, and he'd sing, with the help of further alcohol. It was routine, nothing new. 

Oh, the touring life. 

He threw up again and felt completely empty now. Physically, but also in the existential sense of the term. He had nothing more to throw up, just like he had nothing more to say. 

It's known that alcohol is a downer. He should have known last night that today his mood would be shitty - but, it's useless to dwell in self pity now. 

He looked at his reflection in the vomit. It was gross and repugnant; _he_ was gross and repugnant. He thought of Ricky. A beautiful, pure boy who loved him and would do just about anything for him. They'd been together for years: however, Ville never actually fell in love with him. He didn't love him, but he was still the only person he felt close to. He felt bad for it: he had a void inside him, he was empty, and for this reason he had nothing to give him. He wanted to love him, but it was as if he didn't have the means for it. 

Just like now: he really wanted to cry, but it was as if he had no tears to shed. Ville never cried. 

He shoved two fingers down his throat, trying to self induce vomiting: maybe, by doing so, the sickness would disappear for good. 

He coughed. Nothing came out. 

He stood up; vertigo was still strong, but he thought he could make something good out of this mood and unease, a song, perhaps. Better than feeling sorry for himself, right? 

Fortunately, his acoustic guitar was sitting right there in the room, so he sat down on the bed and tried some chords. He tried to create a melody with his voice, put some words together. 

For some reason, he kept going back to the theme of solitude: all the words that came out were either synonyms or part of its semantic field. 

Some time passed, but he could write nothing down. Everything he came up with sounded stupid and worthless, and the more he tried, the more his head ached. All it did was make the situation worse, because all he felt he was good at in this life was writing music. Now that he couldn't, he felt useless, and the silent self hatred, always there but often only as a background noise, rose to the surface and turned into violent rage. Frustrated, he threw the guitar against the wall, destroying it. The thud was loud and it satisfied his anger for a brief moment. 

But his body still seethed. Hands shaking, he walked back to the bathroom and found his reflection in the mirror. He looked it in the eyes and barely recognized himself. 

The usual black circles under his eyes were darker than normal, probably accentuated by the pale, dull color of his skin. His jade eyes were swollen and gave an empty, dissociated look to the whole face. His lips were dry and chapped, his hair frizzy and messy. 

And yet, he could still see a sinister beauty in his reflection. Creepy and carnal, he couldn't take his eyes off of himself. Who was this man in front of him? He was used to having this appearance and allure by now, but it still wasn't his, it didn't belong to him, it was alien to him. Non-human? 

What good was all that beauty? What were all that fame, success, money for, if he was still unsatisfied and empty inside? 

He didn't know what he needed. Even if he did, would he know how to get it? Was there something in this world that could make him feel good? 

No, no. To every one of these questions, the answer was no. 

The curse had worked: he was a rockstar, adored and wanted by everyone. But he didn't have a soul anymore. 

Ville tightened his trembling hand in a fist, forcefully hit the mirror in front of him, aiming right at the center of his face and screaming desperately. The mirror shattered, some fragments ended up stuck in the flesh of his hand. Even choleric, panting and with his nostrils flared, he still looked handsome: he couldn't take anymore of that beauty. He never wanted to see it again, he would have disfigured his face with his own hands if that meant being able to see what was behind it. What he really was. 

Instead, he let himself fall to the floor, onto the cold bathroom tiles, and hid his face between his hands. He still couldn't shed a tear, in spite of his body being all tense and heavy. 


	8. dark light

2005 

Finally, the States. 

They had recorded the last album in America, their new producer was American, they'd been in Los Angeles for many months now and Ville was even getting the local accent. 

He liked the States: this place made him feel like a real rockstar. The parties in Playboy mansions, easily procurable drugs of all kinds (he didn't even have to look for it: the dealers themselves were falling over themselves to sell it to him). There was a lot more pomp and opulence than in Finland or Germany, a lot more ostentation, a lot more powerful and important people around. 

The record was done. The release day was today, and the record company had thrown a release party to celebrate. 

Ville'd started to like parties a little more: when he was under the effect, he felt less depressed and more extroverted, and no occasion to repress the pain needed to go to waste. In those circumstances, he didn't mind being photographed or even touched. It was like he was a completely different person. 

A girl had approached him; she was tall, thin, with long dark hair and blue eyes. The cocktail she was holding was blue and decorated with a lime slice. Ville didn't even hear what her name was, yet she looked languidly at him as she brushed a finger along his arm. He seemed to be saying things that made her laugh. 

“You look good with shorter hair,” a voice behind him interrupted them suddenly. 

It was Ricky. It wasn't a surprise, Ville knew he'd come. He just wasn't thinking about it at the moment. 

He turned to him. 

Even in an intoxicated state, it was hard to find words to say. 

“Can we talk… alone?” Ricky said. 

Ville sighed. “Sure. If you'll excuse me, Ma'am,” he walked past her and led Ricky amidst the crowd and out of the room. They went upstairs and Ville opened one of the doors in the hallway. 

It may looked like he knew the place, but he was actually just improvising. However, Ricky followed him, maybe a little more trustfully than it was probably safe. 

“Who is she?” he asked. 

“I don't know. A girl holding a blue cocktail.” 

“Are you cheating on me?” 

Ville leaned against the wall. “No.” 

Ricky closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Ville. You're losing yourself. You're letting yourself go.” 

“It's inevitable with the job I have.” 

“You're so unhappy,” Ricky said. “It's clear. I'm worried for you. I just want to be close to you and help you.” 

“You can't do anything.” 

“My love,” he walked over to him and kissed his lips. “I'm gonna stay with you forever. Together, we can make it. Don't be scared.” 

“You don't get it, Ricky,” Ville said, voice darker. “There are things you don't know.” 

“Tell me, then. Let me help you. Please.” 

Ville stepped over to a red velvet couch, his head too heavy. His heart was a stone in his chest: his secrets were rotting away inside of him. They'd been locked inside for almost ten years, now. He could talk to Ricky about it. Was it a good idea? For ten years he'd hidden all of this from him. Ricky, who simply loved him, had no idea what monster he had in front of him. 

“I don't love you, Ricky. I will never love you.” 

“Are you breaking up with me?” 

“No. I'm just stating the facts. You can leave if you want, when I'm done. 

Do you remember the first time we saw each other? After the show at the Tavastia. You spent the night with me and we made love for the first time. Do you remember that, Ricky?” 

“Of course I do. It was a beautiful night,” Ricky closed his eyes. “I can still remember the smell of your hair soap.” 

“The morning after, you found some demonology books.” 

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Well. Do you really think I did it all by myself?” 

“Ville, I don't -” 

“A deal with the devil. That's what's behind all of this. My voice, my beauty, my success. That's why I could never love you, Ricky. My soul doesn't belong to me. I'll never be happy.” 

Ville didn't need to look him in the eyes to know how tense and upset he was. He could see his clenched fists out of the corner of his eye; he was likely holding back tears. 

“Then why did you stay with me for nine years, Ville? Why didn't you tell me?” his voice was low. 

Ville sighed. 

“I don't know why. You're the only person I feel close to. I've been selfish because I kept you around even though I never loved you; what's worse is, I would do it again a thousand times. Because you're special to me, I feel bound to you… it's weird.” 

There was a moment of deafening silence. Ville's heart ticked like a time bomb. 

“I see,” Ricky said eventually, gaze low. 

“I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess - if there's anything I can do for you, I'll try to do it. I want to make you happy at least once. I'll let you go then; I still want you with me, but now that you know the truth, I can't keep you here against your will.” 

Ville got to his feet and, when he was close enough, Ricky lifted his eyes and looked at him. Ville shuddered. 

“I just want one thing, for how crazy it might sound. Please, make love to me. I need to feel you inside me… if you can't love me, let me have a temporary illusion of it. Please.” 

The knot in Ville's throat loosened a little, a hint of a smile appeared on his face. That, he could do. “Okay.” 

Ricky approached him first. He rested one hand on his chest and locked eyes with him. Those eyes were pretty and deep like the first time. 

Ville put a finger under his chin and brought him closer, then captured his lips in his own. Ricky rested his arms on his shoulders and crossed his wrists behind his head. 

The more passionate the kiss became, the tighter Ville's hands held his hips, pushing him against the nearest wall with conviction. When the boy's back met the wall, Ville started nibbling his neck; the smell of his long hair inebriated him. His hands moved to the buttons of his white shirt: he opened them one by one, and it was difficult to breathe for Ricky. 

Ville took it off easily, then caressed his chest and stomach, feeling how the skin got goosebumps under his gentle touch. 

“My love…” Ricky sighed, Ville's hands now on his belt. 

“I'm here, sweetheart. Tell me what you want,” Ville whispered in his ear. 

“I want… you, Ville,” his voice was broken. “Please, take me… I want you so much.” 

It wasn't hard for him to believe it. He was super hard under his hand, Ville felt him twitch through his jeans. 

He didn't resist further. He took off the rest of his clothes forcefully and spun him around so that he was facing the wall, Ricky's cheek pressed against it. Ville gripped Ricky's wrists in a fist and held them firm behind his back, in between them. He pulled himself out with the other hand. The breath got cut in his throat when he grabbed his cock, a beginning of sweet friction against the rough skin of his hand. 

“Do you want me, too?” Ricky said, subdued. 

“Yeah, darling. Of course I do,” Ville said, and a small smile formed on Ricky's lips. Ville smiled back. 

He spit on the fingers of his own free hand and brought them closer to the part of Ricky that desired him the most. The latter's breath got heavier, and he let out a loud moan when he finally touched him. Ville put his index finger inside slowly; Ricky was shaking. When it seemed he got used to it, Ville added his middle finger. Only when he added the ring finger he started moving, Ricky's body shaken and hot with desire. His own cock, wet at the tip, was so hard it almost ached. Ville couldn't hold on much longer. 

When he was sure Ricky was ready, Ville pulled his hand out and replaced it with his dick. Ricky shuddered with a sweet groan, a brief cry; Ville entered slowly, and when he got to his deepest spot, he stood motionless for a moment. He was so tight; the grip and the heat were so pleasant he could almost see stars. 

“C'mon, love…” Ricky said in a sigh. “Make me yours. I am yours.” 

His unruly breathing only made Ville want him more: just knowing that he was making him lose his mind like that, that _he_ was the cause of his submitted, fogged, uncontrollable state, gave him a sense of power and dominance that made him feel irresistible and manly. 

He'd always liked compliments. That's why when Ricky said, between moans, “You're so beautiful you drive me crazy. No other man will ever make me feel like this,” Ville started moving even faster inside him, an adrenaline rush overwhelming every cell in his body. The wish to give Ricky the best sex of his life grew more and more urgent, drowning out all his other thoughts and hesitations. 

“Fuck, Ville,” Ricky was sweating, his black hair glued to his nape and to the side of his face. His sighs turned into moans with every thrust, until a particular strong one made him come: Ville saw him get tense for a second and then relax again. He let go of his wrists and placed his hand on his cum-covered stomach. 

Ville came some thrusts later. His brain seemed to be exploding from the wave of pleasure, and his knees almost gave in as he filled Ricky's defenceless body with his seed. 

When his breath got back to normal, Ville pulled out: his boiling liquid fell down Ricky's thigh. The latter sighed when he felt empty. 

Naked, he walked over to the red velvet couch and lied down, exhausted. Ricky followed him, kneeled down on the floor right next to his face. He stroked his cheek with his knuckles. 

“Thank you for this last time,” Ville said. “I take it you're gonna go, now.” 

“It wasn't the last time,” Ricky said, smiling. Ville furrowed his brow in a quizzical look. “I know you're never gonna love me, my angel…” he kissed the corner of his mouth and stood up, towering over Ville. “What you don't know is: I can do without it. 

'Cause your soul is mine, and it belongs to me for eternity.” 


	9. love's requiem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably rename this fic "giulia torturing twinks since 1996" idk

Ville backed away, mouth agape, eyes open wide. He was paler than usual and droplets of sweat wetted his forehead; he looked horrified, terrified. Exactly what Ricky'd thought. 

“Y'know, love, it's actually refreshing to see you express emotions other than total apathy and desperation for once.” 

“Ricky -” 

“You aren't used to this, huh?” 

“No, no! It can't be. It must be a bad trip. What did they give me?!” 

“They didn't give you anything. It's not the drugs. I'll show you,” Ricky said and snapped his fingers. Ville was lifted up from the ground and violently thrown against the wall: he screamed in agony when he hit it, then fell to the floor. “Does it feel real now?” 

“Ricky,” his voice was weak, “I don't understand… why…” 

“What is it you don't understand?” 

Ville tried to be strong and sit up, but his arms gave in and he gave up. 

“I thought you loved me for real,” he said. 

“Oh, but I _do_ love you for real,” Ricky crouched down. “Do you think I kept you around all this time for no reason? Unlike you, _I can_ love, because I'm almighty and I don't need a soul for it. It's just very rare for me to fall in love. 

Usually, I don't show myself to the people I seal deals with, even in my human form. But you… you have something more than the others. Ever since you drew my sigil on your bedroom floor I knew I couldn't stay away from you. Everything I ever said to you was real, Ville.” 

Ville closed his eyes and relaxed on the floor. 

“If you knew everything… why did you sound hurt when I couldn't love you back?” 

“Again, 'cause it hurt me for real. If I'd fallen for someone who still had their soul, they could've loved me back. It didn't happen with you, and this hurt me multiple times. 

But this isn't important, as I was saying. What's important is that you don't love anyone else, and this can't happen. I can live without your love… but your soul belongs to me, only I can see it. I don't need anything else.” 

“You call this love!” Ville said, disdainful. “If you loved me you'd want to see me happy. Whereas I'm a depressed alcoholic because of you.” 

Ricky rolled his eyes. 

“First of all, _you_ summoned me, and you knew what you were doing. Second of all, what did you expect? I'm Lucifer, his infernal majesty. I'm the embodiment of evil. I have my peculiar way to love…” Ricky reached out and brushed Ville's face with his fingers. “And you are so beautiful… so goddamn beautiful… beautiful, and eternally mine.” 

Ville pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. 

“It still doesn't make sense,” he said. “Why did you tell me you were American and had a family there?” 

Among all the questions he could ask, was this really the most urgent? Ricky barely kept from laughing. 

“I still needed a backstory,” he said. “And you had a fascination with the US, so it was the most obvious choice. Also, I can't leave my throne vacant for too long, and foreign parents are always the best excuse for it.” 

Ville put himself in fetal position and remained quiet for a while. Ricky sat down next to him, started caressing his hair. 

“If you really loved me…” Ville started. “If you really loved me, you'd let me go. You'd break this curse for me.” 

Ricky huffed, “And give you your soul back? My love, there's no way. Moreover, even if I wanted, I couldn't do it. Deals with the devil are so powerful even I can't break them. Not even God, for that matter. Didn't you read about it?” 

Ville remained silent again, motionless, his eyes empty. 

“What about me now?” his voice was weak and low. 

“Just like it was till now,” Ricky said, shrugged. “Just know that even if you break up with me, you can't get rid of me - because I always know where you are, who you're with, what you're feeling. If you'd broken up with me before I told you this, I simply would've introduced myself to you as a new, different person. 

As far as eternal damnation is concerned, it's simple: when you die you'll come down with me to Hell. I'll probably let you reign with me; we'll be a beautiful royal family. Though, I have to say it, the pain you feel here is nothing compared to what awaits you down there.” 

Silence again, but this time it was longer. Ricky saw a tear fall down Ville's immobile face; it was the first one since the deal was signed.

**Author's Note:**

> title is a song by HIM 
> 
> xnowimnothing.tumblr.com


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